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ACTION 

AND    OTHER    POEMS 


ACTION 

AND   OTHER    POEMS 

BY 

JOHN    ERSKINE 


NEW  YORK:  JOHN  LANE  COMPANY  .  MCMVII 
LONDON  :  JOHN   LANE,  THE   BODLEY  HEAD 


COPYRIGHT 

1906 
BY  JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


THE  UNIVERSITY   PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE,   U.  S.  A. 


THE  author  gratefully  acknowledges  permission  to 
reprint  poems  from  The  Century  Magazine,  Harper's 
Magazine,  East  and  West,  The  Morningside,  and  The 
Columbia  Literary  Monthly. 

35CR 


TO 

MY  FATHER  AND  MY  MOTHER 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

ACTION i 

IPHIDAMUS .  n 

WINTER  SONG  TO  PAN     . 22 

A  SONG  OF  FRIENDS   .     .    . 26 

ALMA  MATER     .     . -.-;  '  .    >.' 36 

I  HEARD  THE  DOOM 43 

ON  READING  THE  SYMPOSIUM 45 

ON  A  STUDY  OF  THE  TECHNIC  OF  SHAKSPERE'S 

SONNETS ,.'  v..T  .,  V  .     .  47 

CATULLUS 48 

RHYTHMS      .'] 49 

DE  GUSTIBUS     .    .    .    .    .     .    ..    .    .    >    .  50 

ECHOES    .......    ...    *    ;    *    v    .  51 

WITH  SAPPHO'S  POEMS     .    «    .    »    v    ...  52 

WITH  A  BOOK  OF  POEMS 55 

To  ST.  VALENTINE 57 

"LovE  THAT  NEVER  TOLD  CAN  BE"     .     .     .  58 

"FOR  No  AFFLICTION" 59 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

MORE  THAN  THE  HOPE 60 

HEART'S  DESIRE 61 

AN  OLD  SONG 63 

"  BENEATH  THIS  BEAUTY  " 65 

PARTING 67 

IN  LUMINE  PERPETUO 68 

IN  ABSENCE 69 

TREE  OF  LIFE 70 

FAITH 71 

"LovE,  THE  WINGED  LORD" 72 

FUTILITY 73 

THE  Two  SOULS 75 

THE  OLD  HOUSE 76 

NOEL:  A  MYSTERY 78 


ACTION 

'  Tis  memory  gives 
The  immortal  part  by  which  man  lives. 

WILD  EDEN 

FAIR  bloomed  the  happy  world,  fair  bloomed 

the  May, 

But  over  Lethe  came  no  bloom  nor  change, 
Only  the  ancient  languor;  soft  and  smooth, 
Save  where  a  slumbrous  poppy,  nodding  low, 
Trailed  into  ripples,  Lethe  slipped  away ; 
And  there  the  dead,  fresh  from  the  bright  world, 

came, 

And  drank  forgetfulness  —  one  cup  for  all, 
Whether   their   crown   of  life  were    flower   or 

thorn, 


2  ACTION 

Their  draught  of  life  proved  sweet  or  bitter  wine. 
There  statesmen,  soldiers,  leaders  of  their  times, 
Heart-worn  with  blazing  out  new  paths  for  truth, 
Drank  with  their  meanest  follower,  side  by  side  ; 
Two  lovers  there,  one  with  the  passionate  kiss 
Of  sweet  lips  clinging,  one  in  patient  love 
Of  those  same  lips,  which  never  might  be  his, 
Together  drank,  and  equally  forgot ; 
Thither  came  joy  and  sorrow  ceaselessly, 
And  straight  passed  over,  levelled  unto  peace. 

But  with  them  came  a  spirit  not  for  peace ; 
All  violently,  as  one  half  crazed,  he  came 
Down  to  the  banks  of  Lethe.     There  he  stood  ; 
As  some  true  arrow,  springing  from  the  bow, 
Cleaves  a  long  arch,  then  quivers  in  the  gold, 
So  fled  the  spirit  to  the  banks  and  stood. 
A  moment  so ;  then  to  the  dead  cried  out : 


ACTION  3 

"What  drink  ye  here?"    And  one  in  answer 

told, 

All  stammering  for  amazement,  of  the  stream 
That  stills  the  love  of  life,  and  sweetens  death 
With  pure  forgetfulness.     Then  rang  that  land 
And  loud  re-echoed  with  the  strangest  voice, 
The  strangest  cry,  that  ever  startled  hell : 
"  Better  a  life  of  torture,  death  of  shame, 
And  sorrow  lasting  on  to  many  deaths, 
Than  peace  for  me,  bought  by  forgetfulness!  " 

He  stood  erect,  the  rough  wild  hair  blown  back, 
As  from  swift  running;  at  his  heart  one  hand, 
The  other  raised  as  if  to  warn  the  dead 
From  Lethe ;   and  his  face  —  more  than  the  light 
Of  life  and  youth  and  May  burned  in  that  brow 
And  flushed  those  lips,  pain-set ;  his  eyes  seemed 

blind 


4  ACT/EON 

Of  glory,  as  from  gazing  on  the  sun. 

As  when  a  tree  falls  prone  across  a  brook, 

And  gathers  up  its  waters  to  a  pool, 

So  rose  the  startled  dead  around  him  there, 

And  wondered  at  him. 

Then  a  woman  spoke : 
"Wouldst  thou   remember    now?      When   the 

light  goes, 

Why  lay  another  shadow  on  the  dark  ? 
Has  sorrow  met  thee?     There  are  double  scars 
For   wounds    remembered;     here    no    memory 

lives ; 
No   more   thy  thought  shall  cling  to  what  is 

gone  — 
How  can  the  ivy  climb  when  the  house  falls?" 

He  almost  smiled,  for  pity ;  then  there  flamed 
Fire  in  his  eyes,  and  his  heart  filled  his  voice. 


ACTION  5 

"  Oft  as  I  hunted  through  the  summer  woods, 
The  wind  would  fly  with  me  and  spur  me  on, 
The  low  pine-sweetness  urge  me,  fern  and  flower 
Lean  to  my  flight,  and  whisper  after  me, 
Till  the  whole  forest  fell  to  murmuring 
Of  sounds  that  echoed  clearer  than  the  pack, 
And  followed  something  swifter  than  the  deer. 
But  when  I  rested  breathless,  at  the  noon, 
The  whole  world  came  to  silence  suddenly, 
With  one  refrain  still  lasting  on  to  haunt  me 
Of  what  the  woods  sang: 

'  Every  flower  of  the  world 
Waits  to  be  gazed  on ;  all  the  honey  of  the  earth 
Waits  to  be  gathered ;  no  forbidden  sweets, 
And  no  forbidden  beauty/ 

So  befell 
This  morning,  that  I  hunted  till  the  noon, 


6  ACTION 

And  thirsting,  came  upon  a  forest  pool, 

A  silver  mirror  where  the  sun  looked  in. 

I  came  a-tiptoe,  for  the  forest  song 

Was  on  me  —  *  All  the  honey  of  the  earth '  — 

when,  hark ! 

A  whirl  of  laughter  never  brook  could  sing, 
Though  silver  pebbles  teased  it  into  song. 
O  perilous  music !     Marvelling  I  stood 
For  one  dear  moment,  dreaming  not  at  all 
To  break  the  age-long  privacy  of  gods ; 
But  then  the  breeze  stirred  — '  Every  flower  of 

the  world '  — 

0  the  music,  O  the  wild  refrain 

That  rapt  my  soul !     I  drew  the  leaves  apart  — 

1  looked  on  Dian  ! 

Knee-deep  in  the  pool, 
So  white  against  the  forest ;  all  her  hair 


ACTION  7 

Falling  in  tangles,  dark  against  the  white, 
And  dripping  silver  in  the  noonday  sun. 
She  raised  her  eyes,  the  swift  blush  covered  her, 
One  divine  rose  burning  with  terrible  fire. 
/   Lightly  she  dipped  her  fingers  in  the  pool, 
And  lightly  flung  the  silver  in  my  eyes, 
And  all  amazed  to  be  so  gently  used, 
Still  poring  on  her  beauty,  all  at  once 
I  felt  the  bow  and  quiver  slip  my  fingers ; 
My  hand  was  as  the  hoof  of  some  great  stag; 
A  hairy  covering  fringed  my  eyes,  and  clothed 
My  limbs  with  awful  change ;  then  keen  I  felt 
The  branching  antlers  cleave  my  brow,  and  knew 
A  sudden  trembling,  not  like  human  fear, 
Bite  at  my  heart. 

She  watched  me,  still  as  death, 
Nor  longer  cared  to  screen  herself;  the  blush 


8  ACTION 

Fell  from  her  face  like  the  deep  set  of  sun, 
That  brings  the  stars  out  cold ;  but  as  I  looked, 
Her  beauty  grew  and  kindled  in  the  cold, 
Until  my  heart  broke  into  fire  before  it, 
And  the  fear  passed  away. 

I  heard  the  pack 

Crying ;  deep  pity  changed  her  look.     I  knew, 
But  left  her  not,  so  marvellous  the  pity 
That  drew  her  eyes  to  mine.    They  slew  me  there, 
My  own  poor  hounds,  but,  ere  I  fell,  I  saw 
Her  face  grow  sorrowful.     How  can  I  forget 
That  divine  face  ?     Ye  may  forget,  but  I 
Gazed  once  on  beauty  till  her  glance  grew  kind, 
Suffered  the  cost  of  it,  drank  of  the  bliss, 
And  evermore  remember." 

High  the  voice 
Rang  o'er  that  dismal  country,  triumphing, 


ACTION  9 

And  a  great  glory  flushed  Actaeon's  face. 
But  ere  the  silence  half  resumed  itself 
Back  from  the  echo,  turned  the  spirit  band 
Incredulous,  forth  to  their  flight  again. 

As  when  strong  rising  waters  burst  the  dam, 
Sweep  clear  the  river-bed,  and  only  leave 
One  stubborn  buttress  stiff  against  the  flood, 
So  stood  Actseon  while  the  dead  rushed  by. 

"  One  draught  of  Lethe  for  a  world  of  pain? 
An  easy  bargain ;  yet  I  keep  the  thorn, 
To  keep  the  rose.     I  will  remember  Dian ; 
If  I  forget,  who  shall  remain  to  tell 
What  beauty  was?     Perchance  the  gods  have 

kept 

Some  unillumined  corner  of  deep  hell 
To  brighten  with  this  memory.     This  I  know: 
They  have  no  power  to  take  her  from  me,  more 


io  ACTION 

Than  she  could  keep  me  from  her  in  the  world, 
Nor  death  could  keep  me  !  " 

Slowly  turned  he  then 
Where  the   dark   country   sleeps   beneath   the 

gloom ; 

And  as  he  went,  the  glory  of  his  face 
Spread   gleams   before  him,   like  the   coming 

dawn  — 

Trailed  brightness  after,  like  the  fading  day; 
And  when  he  passed,  the  quiet  gloom  returned. 


IPHIDAMUS  ii 


IPHIDAMUS 

Far  from  his  wedded  wife,  helping  the  folk  of 
the  city— far  from  his  bride. 

ILIAD,  xi,  242. 

YOUNG  Iphidamus,  son  of  Antenor, 
Wooed  bright-eyed  Theano,  his  boyhood  love, 
All  summer  long,  and  in  the  harvest  days 
Won  her  and  brought  her  home,  a  happy  bride, 
Northward,  over  the  sea,  to  far-off  Thrace. 
There  on  the  shore  his  lonely  roof  was  set 
Bordering  the  dunes,  storm-beaten,  and  below, 
The  never-tiring  breaker  crashed  and  roared. 
The  sloping  sands,  wave-wrinkled  and  untrod, 
Now  kissed  the  feet  of  Theano,  when  she  first 
Gladdened  the  house,  under  the  bridal  stars, 


12  IPHIDAMUS 

And  the  warm  hearth  blazed  welcome  through 

the  door. 

Young  Iphidamus,  drunken  deep  of  love, 
Mourned  not  the  summer  gone,  the  failing  year ; 
For  Theano  in  his  heart,  Demeter-like, 
Brought   greenness   on  the  barren  sands,  and 

kindling 

A  warmer  glory  in  the  Thracian  dawns, 
Drew  purple  o'er  the  wave,  grey  with  the  winter. 
The  hearth  that  once  flamed  lonely  to  the  skies, 
Now  sang  of  human  comfort,  and  the  girlish 
Music,  Theano's  laughter,  made  her  love 
Hear  not  the  broken  sea.    The  thin  young  moon, 
The  silver-eyed,  rose  wondering  on  their  joy, 
And  shining  larger,  found  no  love  like  theirs 
From  shore  to  shore.      But  all  too  soon  she 

waned ; 


IPHIDAMUS  13 

And  ere  the  nights  were  dark,  their  joy  was  dead. 
A  Greek-born  wanderer,  resting  at  their  door, 
Grown  thankful  over  generous  meat  and  wine, 
Paid  them  but  ill,  the  idle  woe-bringer ! 
"  Friends,  have  ye  made  the  mercy  of  the  gods 
So  welcome,  it  will  never  dwell  elsewhere  ? 
How  lightly  here  the  breath  of  Eros  moves, 
Stirring  the  quiet  air  to  music  low; 
But  all  my  land  bows  to  one  gust  of  war, 
As  on  the  forest  falls  the  bitter  North, 
Bending  one  way  the  marsh-flag  and  the  pine. 
Now  all  the  sails  of  Hellas,  raised  in  wrath, 
Are  set  for  Troy ;  false  Helen  and  her  love 
Look  seaward  now,  and  count  how  many  wings 
Urge  on  the  will  of  the  rewarding  gods. 
Lo,  now  the  seamen  prop  the  dripping  keels 
High  on  the  beach ;  the  Argive  spear  is  loosed, 


14  IPHIDAMUS 

And  with  it  flies  a  swift  unlovely  sleep 
For  Trojan  eyes;  or  in  the  reddened  night 
The  glaring  camp-fires  through   the    Achaian 

host 

Wake  Paris  from  his  dreams.     Even,  it  may  be, 
Old  Priam,  fallen  poor  of  younger  arms, 
Hides  the  white  beard  under  the  coat  of  bronze 
To  pace  the  shaken  walls." 

He  spoke  the  words : 

And  Theano  listened  sorrowful,  with  her  eyes 
Full  of  the  grief  of  war ;  but  ere  he  ceased, 
On  her  the  woe  was  fallen. 

For  now  no  more 

Had  Iphidamus  pleasure,  as  of  old, 
In  word  of  love  or  laughter,  but  his  eyes 
Followed  her  ever,  restless  with  bright  fear. 
He  found  no  comfort  in  the  hearth  —  moodily 


IPHIDAMUS  15 

Stared  at  the  flame  unbrightened.     The  wave- 
worn  beach 

All  day  he  paced,  revolving  anguished  thoughts, 
Like  one  whose  heart  two  purposes  besiege ; 
And  when  against  the  sky  some  wide-winged  gull 
Flashed  like  a  sail  over  the  last  billow, 
Long  would  he  watch  its  flight ;  and  in  his  face, 
Like  carrion-ravens,  trouble  circled  dark, 
Low-brooding  o'er  the  battle  in  his  soul. 

There  came  a  sullen  day  in  the  late  year, 
Dim  with  low  clouds,  blown  huddling  from  the 

North, 

And  then  at  last  his  spirit  bowed  itself 
To  one  possessing  purpose.     Down  the  coast 
He  called  his  men,  old  lovers  of  the  sea, 
Scarred  from  the  fierce  embrace  of  boisterous 
waves, 


16  IPHIDAMUS 

Brave  hearts  that  found  their  hope  in  bleak  sea- 
dawns. 

Swiftly  they  shouldered  down  the  unpropped 
keels, 

Freighted  with  arms  and  gifts,  where  the  flood- 
tide 

With  every  wave  more  rudely  tossed  the  bows, 

And  where  the  cliff  robbed  nothing  of  the  wind. 
Young  Iphidamus,  stricken  sore  of  woe, 

Turned  from  the  ships,  the  seamen  at  their  oars, 

The  rocking  masts  that  spread  out  hungry  arms 

Wide-yearning  to  the  wind  —  and  climbed  the 
steps 

To  Theano,  where  she  waited  at  the  door. 

She  had  no  welcoming  smile,  but  took  his  kiss 

Quietly,  and  the  words : 

"  O  weep  not,  Theano  ! 


IPHIDAMUS  17 

Though  with  great  mischief  work  the  gods  their 

will. 

They  drive  the  plough  of  anger,  and  uproot 
All  slowly-blossoming,  easy-blasted  flowers ; 
The  joy  of  man  they  spare  not.     Was  it  I 
Forgot  the  hungry  days  of  love,  expecting 
The  honey  and  the  wine  for  evermore? 
The  dreadful  Three  have  cloven  the  single  thread, 
And  weave  us  separate  fates.     O  bride  beloved, 
How  can  I  leave  thee  ?    Not  for  lack  of  love 
I  go  —  thou  canst  not  doubt  —  no  lack  of  love  ! 
Thou  art  my  wisest  goddess  and  most  fair ! 
O,  having  thee,  my  wealth  a  hundred  times 
Outweighs  the  thrones  of  Hera !     Having  thee 
I  could  not  go :  but  thee  I  have  no  more. 
That  day  when  he,  the  raven-throated,  told 

His  evil  tale  of  Helen  and  her  wars, 
2 


i8  IPHIDAMUS 

And  Priam  stricken,  shorn  of  friends  —  I  turned 
A  selfish  ear,  and  said,  *  He  needs  not  me ! 
Truly,  my  father's  guest-friend,  unto  whom 
My  blood  beats  loyal  and  I  owe  it  all, 
But  now  he  cannot  ask  it !     Lonely  souls 
With  no  fair  face  to  live  for,  let  them  die 
A  happy  death  for  Helen ;  but  for  me 
Love  pours  the  cup  of  life,  wine  of  desire : 
I  will  not  take  away  my  lips/ 

O  Theano ! 

I  chose  the  eagle-flight  alone  with  thee, 
Far  above  call  of  friend  or  stroke  of  foe ; 
I  chose ;  perchance  the  stern-eyed  gods  prepare 
A  blight  for  inward-yearning  love,  or  else 
Joy  clutched  too  hard  will  crumble ;  but  no  more 
Delight  of  dawn  was  mine,  when  the  young  day 
Came  stirring  at  the  window,  nor  the  song 


IPHIDAMUS  19 

Of  breakers  brought  me  slumber  in  the  night ; 
For  with  the  dawn  I  felt  uncertain  dooms 
Gathering,  and  the  sad  reluctant  sea 
Wearily  thundered  woe.     Lovely  no  more 
Thy  beauty  seemed,  but  ashes  in  the  bud, 
And  all  thy  words  unsweet,  for  evermore 
Old  Priam  rose  before  me  comfortless, 
Shaken  with  age,  and  jeeringly  he  cried, 
'  The  son  of  Antenor  may  Love  forget, 
Who  hath  forgot  the  ancient  love  of  friends ! ' 
Now,  ere  the  curse  strike  deeper,  I  will  go ; 
Late,  but  the  wind  is  swift  to  overtake 
The  Spartan,  where  he  seeks  his  worthless  bride. 
I,  for  a  better  love,  have  swifter  wings, 
And  on  the  plains  of  Troy  shall  win  again 
The  first  unclouded  vision,  thee  once  more, 
Cheering  me  home  from  deeds  of  friendly  faith, 


20  IPHIDAMUS 

Lovely  as  when,  returning  from  the  hunt, 
I  saw  thee  first,  under  a  happy  moon, 
Moving  like  Hera  down  thy  father's  lawns, 
White-robed,  and  laughing  blessings  with  thine 

eyes. 

Lo,  even  now  thy  cheeks  are  rose  again, 
Flushed   with    the    promise.     Ah,   remember, 

sweet, 
Thou   art   not  alone,  though   lonely,  and   our 

house 

Not  desolate,  like  that  Lacedaemon  home  ! 
At  night  when  we  two  sit  by  the  warm  blaze, 
And  hear  the  hungry  sea,  I  think  that  Love 
Stands  in  the  doorway,  and  no  harm  comes  in. 
And  when  I  go,  the  god  himself  sits  down 
Before  the  empty  hearth  and  keeps  the  house. 
Now  Love  and  thou  keep  well  my  house  for  me !  " 


IPHIDAMUS  21 

On  her  white  lips  his  kiss,  and  on  her  cheeks 
His  warm  tears  fell,  as  from  her  arms  he  turned 
Down  to  the  ship,  to  the  grey  wind-combed  sea. 
On  him  she  fixed  her  hopeless  eyes  amazed ; 
As  when  in  hell  unwelcome  Hermes  comes, 
Earthward  to  lead  Persephone,  their  queen, 
And  the  wan  dead,  with  infinite  despair, 
Knowing  the  woe  at  hand,  the  utter  gloom, 
Watch  that  fair  comfort  swiftly  borne  away. 


22  WINTER   SONG    TO    PAN 


WINTER  SONG  TO  PAN 

PAN  sleeps  within  the  forest !  There  I  heard 
Him  piping  once,  there  once  I  heard  him  shame 
The  wild  bird  with  his  note,  but  now  he  sleeps, 
Wrapped  in  the  ragged  driftings  of  the  snow, 
Half-naked  to  the  wind,  and  by  his  side 
The  magic  pipes,  long  fallen  from  weary  hands. 

God  of  the  drowsy  noon,  awake  !  awake ! 
Pipe  me  a  summer  tone  once  more,  and  pipe 
Thy  godhead  back  again.     Hast  thou  forgot 
The  finger-tips  a-tingle  on  the  pipes, 
The  musing  tone  a-tremble  on  the  lips, 
The    sweets    divinely   breathed,    the    summer 
sweets  ? 


WINTER    SONG    TO    PAN  23 

Hast  thou  forgot  the  noonday  peace,  the  touch 
Of  forest-greenness  resting  on  the  world, 
The  hollow  water-tinkle  of  the  brooks, 
The  startled  drone  of  some  low-circling  bee? 
Once  thou  didst  love  the  heat,  the  hushed  bird- 
song, 

The  rich  half-silence,  breathing  mystery: 
It  is  full-silence  now ;  now  bird  and  bee 
Are  silent,  and  the  crystal-frozen  brooks 
That  wind  mute  silver  through  the  land,  like 

veins 

In  quarried  stone ;  the  forest  voice  is  gone ; 
Hark  to  the  withered  crackle  of  the  leaf 
Whose  sigh  of  old  was  beautiful !     The  pipes 
Of  Pan  are  stopped  with  icicles,  where  once 
Breath  of  a  god  made  music.     Foolish  god ! 
Thy  finger-tips  must  tingle  now  with  cold, 


24  WINTER    SONG    TO    PAN 

And  only  frost  be  trembling  on  thy  lips.  N 
Thou  art  but  half  a  god,  and  see,  the  cold 
Hath  gnawed  away  thy  half-divinity, 
And  made  thee  seem  all  beast !     The  mocking 

chill 

Of  winter  parodies  our  human  grief 
In  thee ;  those  bitter  ice-drops  on  thy  cheek, 
Was  ever  human  tear  so  hard  and  cruel  ? 
Age  cannot  touch  the  gods,  but  see,  the  snow 
Hath   crowned   thee    whiter    than   a   thousand 

years ! 

All  this  is  for  thy  sleep  !     Awake,  O  Pan  ! 
Breathe  on  thy  pipes  again,  O  bring  me  back 
One  summer  day,  and  be  the  god  of  old ! 
Make  loud  the  brook,  and  rouse   the  droning 

Y     bee' 

*' 

And  come  thou  to  thy  kingdom  back,  and  pipe. 


WINTER    SONG    TO    PAN  25 

I  wait  for  thee,  for  thee  my  song  I  raise, 
But  at  thy  waking  thou  shalt  answer  me, 
And  bird  and  leaf  and  brook  and  drowsy  noon 
Shall  meet  the  wild  bee's  droning  in  thy  song. 
O  summer-bringing  voice,  return,  O  Pan ! 


26  A    SONG    OF    FRIENDS 


A  SONG  OF  FRIENDS 

NOT  to  the  Muse  I  sing, 

Though  this  high  theme  of  old  was  wont  to  bring 
On  poets'  lips  the  Muse's  breath  divine, 
The  fiery  flood  of  song ; 
But  to  the  heart-uplifting  mood, 
The  winged  vision,  born  of  brotherhood, 
Of  brotherhood  the  sign  — 
When  friendship  looks  from  loyal  eyes 
In  youth  and  faith  and  reverence  strong, 
And  o'er  the  sight  no  shadow  lies  — 
To  that  dear  mood  I  sing,  would  but  its  fire 
Make  equal  my  weak  song  with  my  most  high 
desire ! 


A    SONG    OF    FRIENDS  27 

I  sing  of  youth  the  golden  loves, 
The  unspent  charm  of  loyalty 
While  yet  the  world  is  young; 
While  yet  the  sensitive  impulse  moves 
At  the  least  breath  of  memory, 
Blown  from  high  peaks  of  time, 
Fragrant  with  nobility ; 
And  at  the  low,  persuading  tongue 
Youth  eager  leaps  to  make  its  own 
The  inheritance  sublime, 
To  live  familiar  with  the  flower 
Of  friendship,  wheresoever  found 
Roman  or  Greek,  or  better  known, 
Arthur  and  his  fair  Table  Round, 
Or  him  that  held  his  desperate  ground 
At  Roncesvalles,  and  by  his  side 
His  true  friend  fought  and  died : 


28  A    SONG    OF    FRIENDS 

Till  frequent  memory  breed  the  power 

To  feel  ourselves  the  ancient  mood, 

The  ageless  pulse  of  brotherhood, 

Warmed  with  the  blood  of  more  than  mortal 

birth ; 

And  the  new  life  impels  the  youthful  heart 
To  play  no  unheroic  part 
With  those  that  bear  the  love  that  moves  the 

earth. 

What  need  have  we  these  glories  to  recall, 
These  duties  sweet —  all  noble  deeds  to  hold 
In  memory,  and  ourselves  to  work  them  all  — 
We  who  these   duties  loved,  and   made   them 

ours  of  old  ? 

But  ah,  the  drooping  flight  that  ease  discovers 
To  lure  so  soon  away  the  young  star-lovers, 


A    SONG    OF    FRIENDS  29 

When  dim  the  beacons  burn  and  far  above, 
And  the  first  heaven  fades ; 
When  the  near,  comfortable  earth  persuades 
Wing-weariness,  delaying  the  heavenward  heart 

of  love ! 

So  from  our  early  vows  are  we  not  turned, 
Pondering  this  other  wisdom,  ere  we  know  — 
"  The  rugged  peak  by  every  blast  is  worn, 
By  heaven's  breath  the  soaring  spirit  torn ; 
For   us   the    sheltered   plain,   where   all   winds 

gently  blow  "  ? 

And  ever  as  we  pondered,  nearer  burned 
The  subtle  dream,  the  bright  allure, 
Of  our  unlovely  ills  the  loveless  cure, 
Dear  to  the  mind,  but  unaccepted  of  the  soul  — 
Equality,  that  perilous  cry  of  France, 
That  lifts  the  weak  heart  out  of  circumstance, 


30  A    SONG    OF    FRIENDS 

But  bids  the  rarer  spirit  be  level  with  the  whole ! 

Have  we  not  bent  to  this  our  first  desire  ? 

Making  our  best  achievement,  courtesy, 

Our  friendship  but  a  soft,  consistent  glow, 

Not  like  the  ancient  fire 

That  melted  in  one  league  high  thoughts  and 

low, 

Silver  and  costlier  gold,  alike  refined 
By  love's  pure   flame,  and  made   one   perfect 

mind? 

Then  one  expert  in  life,  in  wisdom  old, 
Found  for  his  love  one  rich  in  youth  alone, 
In  springing  hope,  in  new  mysterious  life, 
Unequal  friends,  yet  linked  with  chains  of  gold, 
And  each  the  other's  fortune  made  his  own ; 
Then  youth,  in  hunger  for  all  noble  strife, 
Scanning  the  battle,  thence  his  Bayard  chose, 


A    SONG    OF    FRIENDS  31 

His  generous  knight,  the  hero  he  would  be, 
And  following,  served  and  worshipped  loyally, 
Unenvying  to  what  height  soe'er  he  rose, 
After  his  glory  large  content  to  glean : 
As  round  the  moon,  whene'er  she  rises  bright, 
Shine  on,  though  overspread  of  her  sweet  light, 
The  faithful  stars  unchangeable,  serene. 

Sweet  the  west  wind,  that  loud  the  forest  thrills, 
But  stirs  the  rushes  softly ;  sweet  the  dew, 
Whereof  the  rose  her  larger  chalice  fills, 
The  violet  daintily  drinks ;  and  love  is  fair,1 
Whose  spacious  light  and  song,  wide  as  the  air, 
Fall  as  one  joy  on  else-divided  lives, 
And   friendship   there   strikes  noble   root  and 

thrives. 
Such  friendship  Hylas  knew : 


32  A    SONG    OF    FRIENDS 

Hylas  the  young,  whom  once  Alcides  loved, 

And  seeking  him,  long  over  Mysia  roved, 

The  golden  quest  forsaking ; 

The  impatient  Argosy  delayed  its  flight, 

Jason  delayed,  while  ever,  morn  and  night, 

Alcides  roved  forlorn,  his  vain  cry  making  — 

"  Hylas,  O  Hylas  !  "  For  they  two  were  bound, 

The  knightly  roamer  and  the  tender  boy, 

In  perfect  league,  as  when  the  climbing  vine 

Ranges  the  aged  oak  with  beauty  round, 

With  greenness  ever  new; 

And  time  divides  them  not,  until  he  both  destroy, 

So  close  the  root,  the  leaf,  the  branches  twine : 

So  Hylas  round  Alcides  grew, 

Himself  unstalwart,  round  the  son  of  Jove, 

The  wide  deliverer,  working  good  for  men 

In  labours  fit  for  gods.    Together  then 


A   SONG    OF    FRIENDS  33 

They  joined  the  fifty,  all  the  flower  of  Greece, 
To  tempt  unwonted  fates  for  dim  rewards, 
From  Colchis,  from  the  isle  the  dragon  guards, 
To  fetch  the  golden  fleece ; 
Alcides  for  renown  the  venture  made, 
And  Hylas  followed  him  for  love. 
But  when  the  ship  in  sheltering  Mysia  stayed 
The  shifting  of  the  winds,  and  twilight  fell, 
Then  came  young  Hylas  to  the  sacred  well, 
The  Naiads'  haunt,  by  fatal  chance  he  came ; 
No  water  thence  he  drew,  but  thirst  was  drawn ; 
For  him  the  nymphs  beheld,  like  the  young  dawn 
When  first  it  spreads  its  timid  golden  flame ; 
And  swift  they  drew  him  down,  with  them  to 

dwell. 
No  more  the  Argosy  delayed  its  flight, 

But  seaward  sped ;  while  ever,  morn  and  night, 
3 


34  A    SONG    OF    FRIENDS 

Alcides  roved  the  land  from  end  to  end ; 
No  other  quest  he  sought,  but  only  sought  his 
friend. 

O  thou  who  first  the  love  of  man 
On  men  bestowed,  once  more  inspire, 
As  when  all  brotherhood  began, 
The  yearning  quest,  the  far  desire, 
Lest  we  with  peace  be  satisfied, 
Drawn  from  our  only  path  aside. 
Deep  in  thy  power  of  love  remain 
A  thousand  friendships  still  to  give, 
And  without  number  is  their  name, 
Young  hearts  that  most  by  friendship  live ; 
Of  their  bright  deeds  the  golden  chain 
Still  binds  us  to  another  day ; 
Still  in  their  soul  the  ancient  gleam 


A    SONG    OF    FRIENDS  35 

Burns  forward  to  a  starrier  dream, 
A  fairer  love  for  aye. 
They  drink  of  love  the  draught  sublime, 
They  cherish  the  diviner  thirst, 
They  seek  the  fountain  streams  ; 
Hope  breaks  their  path  where  truth  shall  climb, 
And  their  remotest  trail  is  first 
Familiar  made  by  dreams. 
Now  evermore  the  dream  abide, 
Their  friendship  blossom  fairer  flowers ! 
Nor  need  they  other  hands  to  guide, 
Nor  voice  to  cheer  them  need,  but  ours ! 
O  grant  us  strength  to  fail  them  never, 
Never  may  Hylas  lack  Alcides'  love  of  old ! 
So  with  the  heroes,  on  young  lips  for  ever 
Our  friendship  shall  abide  in  linked  names  of 
gold. 


36  ALMA    MATER 


ALMA  MATER 

SPRING  from  the  valley  rises  to  the  hill, 

And  starts  the  corn-seed  toward  the  Autumn 
sheaf; 

From  the  long  silence  breaks  the  robin's  trill, 
And  all  the  rose-heart  flushes  to  the  leaf. 
A  little  shadow  finds  a  hiding  brief 

In  the  low  places ;  all  the  light  has  flown 

With  the  Spring,  hillward,  to  our  Mother's  throne. 

There  on  the  hill  she  reigns  beside  the  rose, 
And  high  out-soars  the  robin's  melody. 

And  at  her  feet  the  river  slides  and  flows, 
And  spreads  its  waters  till  they  find  the  sea. 
So  all  the  bloom  of  all  the  flowers  to  be, 


ALMA    MATER  37 

Into  her  Springtide  flowing,  dwells  enclaspt ; 
So  spread  the  years  toward  her  full  bloom  at  last. 

To>-day  she  sets  her  throne  upon  the  height, 
And  there  a  larger  dawn  breaks  o'er  her  head, 

Where  from  the  East  the  century  grows  bright. 
The  rose  that  once  in  Omar's  garden  bled, 
Now  at  her  crowning  wears  a  deeper  red ; 

His  bird  of  wine-song  pipes  a  nobler  strain ; 

To-day  the  Queen  comes  to  her  own  again. 

For  we  have  loved  her  when  she  was  no  Queen, 
But  only  trod  the  'prentice  roads  of  fame ; 

Before  her  feet  the  grey  land  turned  to  green, 
And  where  she  walked  the  rose  broke  into 

flame, 
So  swiftly  in  those  days  the  Summer  came, 


38  ALMA    MATER 

But  now  the  years  together  make  one  Spring, 
Where  the  Queen  reigns  in  one  long  blossoming. 

Not  ivy-grown,  not  overgrown  with  years, 
Nor  sadly  sweet  with  thought  of  battles  done ; 

Not  to  be  loved  like  those  whom  age  endears, 
Nor  praised,  like  those  whose  laurels  all  are 

won; 
Still  in  her  youth  she  puts  old  wisdom  on, 

And  sends  her  children  proudly  on  their  way, 

Who  now  behold  her  coronation  day. 

Not  like  the  birds  that  Summer  calleth  home 
To  build  their  nests  anew ;  not  like  the  rose, 

Returning  yearly  to  its  ancient  bloom ; 

Nor  the  rich  West,  in  whose  oft-fading  glows 
Hundreds  of  days  still  blossom  ere  they  close ; 


ALMA    MATER  39 

We  build  no  more  beneath  our  Mother's  crown, 
Never  take  up  the  life  we  here  lay  down ; 

But  as  a  river,  passing  to  the  sea, 

Swift  to  its  rest,  whence  never  stream  returns, 
Slips  down  between  the  hills  unswervingly, 
Yet  somewhat  falters  at  the  end,  half  spurns 
The  hard-worn   sea,   and   landward-bending, 

yearns 
Toward  the  high  shores,  where  once  the  stream 

came  through, 
Toward  the  strong  hills  that  kept  the  river  true ; 

So  at  the  parting  time  we  turn  aside, 

Not  for  the  wane  of  purpose  nor  the  lack, 

But  for  the  nature  of  this  human  tide, 

That  cannot  leave  the  shore,  and  not  look  back 
Where  she  who  held  us  to  the  seaward  track, 


40  ALMA    MATER 

Shows  forth  enthroned  against  the  morning  sky, 
On  the  high  hills  of  her  own  destiny. 

Is  she  not  beautiful,  our  Mother,  now? 

The  light  that  rested  once  on  Greece  of  old, 

Strikes  through  the  years  and  dazzles  on  her 

brow, 

And  shows  how  her  long  tresses  sink  and  fold, 
Where  Truth  has  set  anew  his  crown  of  gold ; 

While  love  for  many  children  in  her  eyes 

Makes  kind  the  light  of  many  victories. 

Over  the  sea  her  flashing  glories  break, 

That  sea  of  hearts,  whither  her  children  run, 

While  all  her  hopes  take  wing  and  outward  make, 
Swift  to  the  Light  of  Hope,  before  whose 
throne 


ALMA    MATER  41 

All  pure  things  fold  their  flight  and  lay  them 

down. 

And  there  her  idle  dreams  rest  secretly, 
Till  one  by  one  God  brings  them  forth  to  be. 

We  cannot  leave  her,  though  we  say  farewell ; 
No  wave  can  ever  seaward  drift  so  far 

But  to  the  shore  will  come  again  and  dwell. 
Seaward  we  go ;  yet  shall  the  guiding-star 
Bring  us  to  port  within  the  harbour-bar 

Whence  first  we  came.     And  on  that  Mother- 
shore 

We  shall  find  strength  to  put  to  sea  once  more. 

Then  O  my  Mother,  in  the  days  to  come, 

When  thy  long  Spring  has  touched  maturity, 
And  many  a  rose  has  mingled  its  red  bloom 


42  ALMA    MATER 

With  silver  of  the  robin's  song,  for  thee ; 

When  many  waters  have  attained  the  sea, 
Till  a  great  ocean  rests  upon  thy  shore, 
Larger  than  any  sea  we  travelled  o'er ; 

Then  in  thy  greatness,  make  thy  children  great ! 
Raise  us   to   thee,  whose  height  we  cannot 

climb. 

And  on  thy  deeds  may  all  God's  blessing  wait, 
And  on  thy  thoughts  wait  all  His  truth  sublime, 
And  all  thy  dreams  come  true  in  His  good 

time. 

Then  when  thy  days  shall  reach  eternity, 
Great  as  thou  art,  so  be  our  love  for  thee ! 


ON    READING    THE    SYMPOSIUM    45 


ON  READING  THE   SYMPOSIUM 

(To  George  Edward  Woodberry} 

PLATO,  what  splendid  names  I  link  with  thine ! 

My  poets  all,  who  had  from  thee  their  dream : 
Sweet  Spenser  first,  who  of  our  English  line 

Love  earliest  learned  and  Beauty  made  his 

theme ; 
Milton  the  next,  from  whom  no  veiled  sun 

Could  Wisdom  hide  nor  Virtue's  lamp  remove ; 
Then  Shelley,  heart  of  hearts  !  and  nearest,  one 

Loyal  to  these,  who  bred  me  in  their  love. 

He  taught  me  Shelley,  who  his  own  youth  nurst, 
Taught  me  the  loftier  music  Milton  sings, 


46     ON   READING   THE   SYMPOSIUM 

Spenser  he  taught,  and  thee  through  these  to 

trace ; 

Now  I  have  felt  thee  mine,  as  the  eaglet  first 
Craves  the  deep  heaven,  and  clothes  his  heart 

with  wings 
To  join  the  star-wide  hunting  of  his  race. 


LSHAKSPERE'S    SONNETS  47 

ON   A   STUDY    OF    THE    TECHNIC    OF 
SHAKSPERE'S   SONNETS 

MORE  in  the  meaning  of  love-given  flowers 

Their  beauty  lies,  than  in  the  scent  or  hue, 
And  some  there  are  will  count  it  fasting  hours 

Only  on  Shakspere's  art  to  feast  with  you ; 
Their  food  is  guessing  how  his  life-blood  ran, 

As  though  the  elusive  spirit  who  put  on 
All  forms  at  will  of  ever-changing  man, 

Should  leave  himself  for  hawks  to  feed  upon  ! 
He  showed  us  not  that  barren  waste  of  bloom, 

That  full-blown  heart  the  sun-dried  daisies  wear, 
But  to  out-dawn  the  far-off  break  of  doom 

He  left  one  early  rose,  so  lasting  fair, 
Though  every  hour  a  petal  lift  its  lid, 
Still  underneath  the  leaf  the  heart  is  hid. 


48  CATULLUS 


CATULLUS 

WHEN  we  can  sound  the  ocean  from  the  beach, 
Counting  how  oft  the  waves  rise  and  return, 
Then  from  thy  words,  Catullus,  we  may  learn 

All  thy  heart  surging  on  the  bounds  of  speech. 

What  swift  design  the  lightning-fork  would  teach, 
The  startled  eye  not  wholly  can  discern; 
So  into  sudden  words  thy  sorrows  burn, 

So  darkness  has  them  back  beyond  our  reach. 

Had  thy  love  waned,  clear  were  its  history; 
After  the  tide  the  cliff  informs  the  skies 

How  the  majestic  waters  scarred  the  stone ; 
But  thou  from  life  passed  to  proud  mystery, 
As  when  a  rose  escapes  the  praise  of  eyes 
And  all  night  long  blooms  to  itself  alone. 


RHYTHMS  49 


RHYTHMS 

POET,  you  that  build  the  rhyme 

Dear  to  the  Muse,  the  lovable  maiden, 
Breathe  again  the  beauty-laden 

Breath  of  wisdom's  earlier  time ! 

Now  the  people  fancy  more 
Popular  art,  sensational  poses, 
Not  the  rarer-chosen  roses, 

Not  the  laurel  Tennyson  wore ; 

But  to  you  my  wreaths  belong, 

Wrought  of  Apollo's  hyacinth-treasure, 
You  that  tread  to  every  measure 

Dainty  steps  of  delicate  song. 
4 


50  DE    GUSTIBUS 


DE  GUSTIBUS 

ONE  used  his  pinions  eagle-like, 

And  straight  against  the  sun  would  rise 

And  scout  among  the  stars,  and  strike 
His  quarry  from  across  the  skies ; 

And  one  was  as  the  bee  that  strives 
Against  no  wind,  but  simply  blows 

Across  the  garden,  and  arrives 
Upon  an  unsuspected  rose. 


ECHOES  51 


ECHOES 

I 

THOU  on  the  stars  divine 
Gazest,  O  star  of  mine ! 
Would  that  I  were  the  skies, 
To  gaze  on  thee  with  many  eyes. 

II 

A  star  of  dawn  thou  wast  to  me ; 
Now  I  have  twilight,  missing  thee : 
But  O,  how  bright  the  spirits  are, 
Shined  on  by  thee,  their  evening  star ! 


52  WITH    SAPPHO'S    POEMS 


WITH   SAPPHO'S  POEMS 

BLESSINGS,  brave  heart,  and  joy  be  thine  ! 

And  for  the  wish,  one  grace  Lclaim, 
That  this  dark  Pagan  girl  of  mine, 

Whose  lips  have  blossomed  sacred  flame, 
Lips  for  no  idle  kisses  born, 
Should  greet  you  on  your  birthday  morn. 

Remember  how  my  spirit  wars 

For  the  old  giant  victories, 
Whose  battle-banners  are  the  stars; 

Yet  seeks  no  less,  with  reverent  eyes, 


WITH    SAPPHO'S    POEMS  53 

The  kindred  glories  that  belong 
To  gracious  women  and  to  song. 

f 

I  loved  the  Lesbian  from  the  hour 

Young  learning  showed  me,  at  long  reach, 
Her  beauty  with  its  double  flower, 

The  woman's  heart,  the  poet's  speech  — 
Loved  her  far  off,  and  dimly  knew; 
I  found  her  close  at  hand  in  you. 

In  you  —  no  idle  praise ;  she  won 
The  first  red  blossoms  for  her  wreath, 

Made  Memnon  greetings  to  the  sun, 

Sweet  with  the  world's  rich  morning-breath ; 

Yet  to  this  twilight-age  endures 

The  memory  of  her  voice  in  yours. 


54  WITH    SAPPHO'S    POEMS 

And  for  the  woman's  heart  in  you  — 
I  know  not  how  to  write  it  here, 

Nor  my  Greek  song-girl  never  knew; 
God  send  a  better  messenger ! 

Some  clear-eyed  angel  that  attends 

The  precious,  secret  thoughts  of  friends. 


WITH  A  BOOK  OF  POEMS     55 


WITH  A  BOOK  OF  POEMS 

DREAMING  on  birthday  thoughts  for  you, 

And  searching  for  a  birthday  rose, 
Where'er  the  stateliest  blossoms  grew 

Or  heaviest  perfume  hung  —  I  chose 
These  perfect  roses,  from  the  bower 

Of  knightly  Love  and  noble  Art, 
Imperishable  bloom  and  flower, 

The  garden  of  a  poet's  heart. 

For  you  these  poet-flowers ;  I  lay 
A  humble  birthday  thought  in  each, 

That  what  I  could  but  rudely  say, 
May  please  you  in  their  finer  speech ; 


56  WITH    A    BOOK    OF    POEMS 

As  a  poor  man,  at  some  great  court, 
Because  his  own  attire  is  mean, 

Borrows  a  coat  of  worthy  sort 
To  wear  in  honour  of  the  Queen. 


TO    ST.    VALENTINE  57 

TO   ST.   VALENTINE 

GREAT  voices  of  the  past  she  knows  and  loves, 

And  most  of  all  the  poets  are  her  friends, 
Such  eager  kinship  in  their  singing  moves, 

And  to  their  ancient  mood  her  spirit  bends ; 
Surrey  his  Geraldine  to  her  makes  known, 

Sidney's  highway  of  love  her  heart  delights ; 
The  faith  her  poets  held  she  makes  her  own, 

Nor  thee,  dear  Saint  whom  Chaucer  loved, 
she  slights. 

St.  Valentine,  this  lady  be  thy  care ! 

The  days  are  evil,  and  thy  service  sweet 
Uncherished  dies  from  our  ungentle  race ; 
Another  heart  like  hers  when  shalt  thou  meet? 

Happy  her  fate  be  ever !     With  the  prayer 
Thy  day  I  honour  and  my  lips  I  grace. 


58     "LOVE    NEVER    TOLD    CAN    BE" 

"LOVE  THAT  NEVER  TOLD  CAN  BE" 

No  bird  hath  ever  lifted  note  so  clear, 
Or  poured  so  prodigal  his  lyric  breast, 
But  carried  still  some  music  from  the  nest, 

When  Winter  laid  the  seal  of  silence  there. 

No  sea  hath  ever  woo'd  the  shore  so  fair 

But  turn  of  tide  left  something  half  expressed ; 
Nor  true  love  ever  burned  so  strangely  blest 

That  words  could  hold  it  all  or  heart  could  hear. 

And  yet  the  tide  will  turn  again,  and  tell 
Its  sweet  persistent  story  o'er  and  o'er  — 

The  bird  take  up  the  cadence  where  it  fell, 
And  pipe  it  towards   the  ending  more   and 
more  — 

And  only  love  be  inexpressible, 

The  endless  song,  the  sea  that  hath  no  shore. 


"FOR    NO    AFFLICTION"  59 

"FOR   NO   AFFLICTION" 

FOR  no  affliction  of  your  own  you  wept, 

Though  sometimes  'neath  your  brightness  I 

surmise 
Enough  sad  secrets  in  your  heart  close-kept 

To  bid  a  thousand  bitter  tears  to  rise ; 
But  for  the  crueller  grief  that  unawares 

Takes  the  sweet  hope  of  life  with  harsh  surprise, 
In  blasted  youth  or  age's  wasting  cares, 

In  beggars'  pleadings  and  their  starving  eyes. 

"  Lo  what  good  company  hath  wept  with  you  !  " 
I  thought,  to  see  those  tears  of  pity  start ; 

"  Unto  this  cause  my  heroes  all  were  true ; 
Of  this  life-sorrow  Virgil  felt  the  smart, 

And  Dante  knew  these  tears,  and  Shelley  knew ; 
Now  with  them  stands  the  lady  of  my  heart." 


60     MORE  THAN  THE  HOPE 

MORE  THAN  THE  HOPE 

LIKE  to  a  merchant  rich  beyond  his  hopes 

By  sudden  chance,  who  yesterday  was  poor, 
And  still   his  mind   through  deep   amazement 
gropes, 

Nor  hardly  dares  he  count  such  fortune  sure ; 
Even  in  sleep  he  ponders  still  his  bliss ; 

Such  faithful  dreams  the  golden  day  renew, 
But  sweeter  than  the  dream's  delight  is  this  — 

To  wake  and  find  more  than  he  dreamt  of  true ; 

So  when  I  see  thee  not,  still  art  thou  fair; 
I  count  thy  wealth  of  beauty  o'er  and  o'er, 
And  still  its  ancient  marvel  holds  my  heart ; 

But  when  I  lift  my  eyes,  and  thou  art  there  — 
I  see  thee  then  as  though  unseen  before, 
And  ponder  this  anew,  "  How  fair  thou  art !" 


HEART'S    DESIRE  61 


HEART'S  DESIRE 

ONE  seed-time,  through  the  burning 
Of  love's  impassioned  Spring ; 

(The  prelude  first,  for  learning 
What  sweets  the  song  will  bring.) 

One  seed-time,  one  up-leaping 
To  the  high  hope  of  thee ; 

One  harvest  at  one  reaping, 
Thy  love  come  home  to  me. 

No  bliss  that  lightly  flowers, 
No  joy  that  fades  as  fast  — 

The  price  of  patient  hours 
For  thy  true  love  at  last. 


62  HEART'S    DESIRE 

Far  off  be  love's  leave-taking ! 

The  rest  for  God  to  keep, 
Whether  I  greet  thee  waking, 

Or  dream  of  thee  in  sleep. 


AN  OLD  SONG  63 


AN  OLD  SONG 

"  Gather  therefore  the  Rose " 

SWEET,  sweet  the  hour  with  thee,  and  ah,  so 

swiftly  fled ! 

Too  swift,  O  love,  and  soon  the  bliss  is  sped ; 
I  lay  the  burden  of  an  ancient  rhyme 
Upon  this  perfect  moment  of  all  time : 
Sweet,  sweet  the  hour — O  sweeter  far  art  thou ! 

The  robin,  carolling  the  noontide  through, 
Another  morn  will  raise  his  song  anew ; 

The  burning  rose  that  droops  amid  your  hair, 

i 

Another  year  will  bring  a  rose  as  fair, 
But  nothing  half  so  fair  as  you  are  now ! 


64  AN  OLD    SONG 

The  wind  that  softly  whispers  overhead, 
Will  whisper  till  the  dawn  of  doom  grows  red ; 
The  sun  that  woos  the  daisy  at  your  feet, 
Another  hour  will  find  a  flower  as  sweet, 
But  nothing  half  so  sweet  as  you  are  now ! 

This  honeyed  hour,  this  bliss  so  swift  to  wane, 
Ah,  many  a  man  and  maid  will  find  again  ! 
No  joy,  dear  heart,  of  all  we  call  our  own  — 
Save  only  to  be  fair  —  is  yours  alone, 
And  only  this  is  mine  —  to  love  you  now  ! 


"BENEATH  THIS  BEAUTY"    65 


-BENEATH  THIS  BEAUTY" 

BENEATH  this  beauty  when  my  spirit  swayeth 

And  with  the  praise  of  it  my  soul  is  stirred, 
Love  on  my  lips  a  wary  finger  layeth 

And  bindeth  in  my  heart  the  eager  word ! 
My  heart,  that  for  love's  sake  these  long  years 
holdeth 

One  dear  desire  to  win  all  ways  of  speech, 
Whose   secret,   love    himself,   I    dreamed,   un- 
foldeth  — 

O,  is  it  silence,  Love,  that  thou  wouldst  teach? 

I  have  desired  to  suffer  thy  sweet  burning 

5 


66         "BENEATH    THIS    BEAUTY" 

And  prayed  thy  fiercest  blow  should  on  me 

fall; 
I  have  grown  scarred  and  wise  in  bitter  learning, 

But  not  to  love  I  never  learned  at  all. 
Now  to  thy  mischief,  Love,  add  not  this  choice  — 
To  know  not  love,  or  never  use  love's  voice. 


PARTING  67 


PARTING 

NOT  in  thine  absence,  nor  when  face 
To  face,  thy  love  means  most  to  me, 

But  in  the  short-lived  parting-space, 
The  cadence  of  felicity. 

So  music's  meaning  first  is  known, 
Not  while  the  bird  sings  all  day  long, 

But  when  the  last  faint-falling  tone 
Divides  the  silence  from  the  song. 


68  IN    LUMINE    PERPETUO 


IN  LUMINE   PERPETUO 

How  could'st  thou  know  this  world  is  sometimes 
drear, 

Who  in  thyself  art  more  man  earthly  light? 
To  thee  alone  the  darkness  comes  not  near ; 

Only  the  sun  has  never  looked  on  night. 


IN    ABSENCE  69 


IN   ABSENCE 

NOT  without  light,  though  sun  and  earth  must 

part, 

And  dark  hours  close  between  like  prison- 
bars; 

In  the  dead  night  of  my  more  sunless  heart 
Thy  smiles  remembered  shall  break  through 
like  stars. 


70  TREE    OF    LIFE 


TREE   OF  LIFE 

IN  myriad  hues  the  buds  of  hope  broke  fair ; 

Midsummer  flowers  of  fortune  clothed  the  tree ; 
Now  in  the  wind  of  fate  each  branch  is  bare : 

Patience,  the  rugged  stock,  abide  with  me  ! 


FAITH  71 


FAITH 

IF  the  star  trembles,  shaken  with  the  dark, 
'T  is  thy  weak  sight  that  wavers,  not  the  star : 

Where  the  stars  shine  most  clear  fix  not  thy 

mark,  — 
The  faintest  stars  nearest  to  heaven  are. 


72         "LOVE,    THE    WINGED    LORD 


"LOVE,   THE  WINGED   LORD" 

LOVE,  the  winged  lord  of  art, 
That  all  sweet  song  inspires, 

First-fruits  from  the  gentle  heart 
Evermore  requires. 

Not  in  every  field  he  sows, 

Never  sows  he  long, 
But  the  swiftest  path  he  goes 

Blossoms  into  song. 

Catch  the  flying  seed  who  may, 

Ere  the  god  go  by; 
Little  love  has  come  my  way  — 

Little  song  have  I. 


FUTILITY  73 


FUTILITY 

THE  west  wind  sings  to  the  rose : 

"  Vain  is  the  breath  of  the  wind 
That  tastes  the  sweet  of  the  rose, 

And  leaves  the  rose  behind ! 
Over  thy  flower  or  beneath  it, 

What  if  I  linger  or  stand  ? 
Soon  to  thy  lover's  heart  I  must  breathe  it 

And  bend  thee  low  to  his  hand." 

To  the  river  sings  the  shore: 

"  Vainer  than  this  to  me, 
The  rivers  that  kiss  the  shore 

And  yet  are  lost  in  the  sea ! 


74  FUTILITY 

Vainly  the  worn  river-hollow, 

While  the  changing  tides  flow  past, 

Waits  for  a  faithful  lover  to  follow 
And  dwell  in  her  heart  at  last" 


THE    TWO    SOULS  75 

THE  TWO  SOULS 

Two  souls  passed  out  beyond  the  eastern  skies 
Bowed  down  to  faintness  by  the  cruel  weight, 
The  ancient  sad  discovery,  of  hate 

Under  love's  kiss,  and  mortals  'neath  the  guise 

Of  gods ;  but  hope  gave  one  far-searching  eyes, 
And  one  despair  half-blinded.     So  the  gate 
Of  death  closed  on  them,  and  alike  in  fate, 

Unwittingly  they  fared  toward  Paradise. 

Now  where  the  angel  guards  the  sacred  place 
With  flaming  sword,  they  came,  and  in  the 

cease 
Of  sorrow  slowly,  wonderingly  drew  near ; 

One,  with  eyes  raised  to  the  celestial  face, 
Knowing  it  for  an  angel's,  went  in  peace, 
But  one  beheld  the  sword,  and  went  in  fear. 


76  THE    OLD    HOUSE 


THE   OLD   HOUSE 

UNFLAGGING  still  the  home's  deep  pulses  beat, 
The  voices  dear,  the  constant  murmur  sweet 
Of  happy  tasks  and  footsteps  to  and  fro, 
The  earnest  talk,  the  songs,  the  laughter  low ; 
But  oft  at  evening  would  my  heart  be  free 
From  solemn  questions  what  this  house  will  be 
In  days  too  near,  when  this  familiar  door 
We  sadly  close,  and  open  it  no  more. 
Fair  lies  the  path,  though  fortune  lead  us  far ; 
No  backward  wish  the  prosperous  moment  mar 
When  'neath  strange  skies  another  hearth  we 

light ! 
But  here  were  joys  that  ne'er  can  seem  so  bright, 


THE    OLD    HOUSE  77 

And  for  life's  simpler  sorrows,  strength  and  cheer, 
And  once  the  darker  Shadow  touched  us  here : 
So  true  a  home,  whate'er  new  fates  may  bring, 
Lived  in  so  long,  some  deep  roots  still  must  cling, 
Some  grace  of  life  we  cannot  take  away. 
Henceforth  whoever  'neath  this  roof  shall  stay, 
Shall  find  old  customs  gently  on  him  laid, 
And  unaccounted  bliss  his  heart  invade. 
Or  if  for  us  a  kindlier  fate  should  be, 
Once  more  the  face  of  this  old  house  to  see, 
And  stung  with  keen  regret,  we  find  these  halls 
An  empty  shell,  this  home  but  soulless  walls  — 
Still  for  our  eyes  the  lifeless  face  shall  keep 
Familiar  lines  of  love,  by  time  carved  deep. 


78  NOEL:    A  MYSTERY 


NOEL:    A  MYSTERY 

(To  Rhodd) 

THE  ANGEL  THE  Two  CHILDREN 

THE  SHEPHERDS 

The  scene  is  a  field,  Just  before  dawn 

THE  ANGEL 

Now  half  the  night  a  lonely  watch  I  keep 
Over  this  flock,  that  huddling  shepherdless, 
Untimely  roused  by  our  unusual  song, 
Suffer  the  dark  and  breathe  far  off  the  dawn. 
Patience,  weak   hearts !      The  shepherds  soon 

return 

From  David's  City,  where  they  seek  the  Child. 
Nay,  long  ere  now  the  Manger-Born  they  find,  — 


NOEL:    A  MYSTERY  79 

His  face  beholding  they  learn  Mystery ; 
While  round  His  cradle  all  those  Voices  stand 
Of  God,  the  multitude  that  suddenly 
With  the  first  angel  were  —  save  me  alone ; 
Me  the  Archangel  gave  this  lesser  task  — 
Not  to  adore  the  new  Light  of  the  World, 
Yet  service  still,  as  most  He  wills  to  serve  — 
And  promise  made  of  other  guerdon  mine : 
"  On  this  night  shall  the  world  find  love,"  he  said, 
"  And  without  love  henceforth  shall  no  thing  be, 
So  Love  has  willed.     When  our  strange  tidings 

stir 

The  slow  minds  of  these  watchers  in  the  field, 
Wonderful  hunger  for  this  Peace  on  Earth 
Shall  drive  them  thoughtless  from  the  unguarded 

flock; 
But  when  they  see  the  Child,  the  Mystery, 


8o  NOEL:    A    MYSTERY 

A  keen  remembrance  of  some  common  act 
Of  love  undone,  shall  urge  each  home  again ; 
Such  simple  ways  Love  knows  to  teach  the  heart. 
Our  tidings  given,  in  Bethlehem  shall  we  too 
Find  the  Bright  Leader  in  His  sweet  disguise ; 
But  one  must  fold  his  wings,  his  glory  dim. 
And  in  the  field  shadow  the  flock  unseen, 
Lest  any  wandering  harm  invade  this  night; 
Yet  since  this  humble  watch  for  all  were  hard  — 
For  who  this  lonely  station  holds,  the  Child 
He  cannot  seek  —  to  him  the  Child  will  come." 
So  the  Archangel  spoke,  and  me  he  chose. 
Now  half  the  night  I  watch;   now  the  first 

stroke 

Of  day  shakes  darkness  into  rosy  seas 
Of  paling  gloom,  —  and  still  the  vision  fails  — 
No  Child,  no  Mystery,  only  timid  sheep 


NOEL:    A   MYSTERY  81 

With  pitiful  eyes  that  look  up  and  are  dumb ; 
So  much  of  human  sorrow  I  have  known  — 
Even  for  a  season  from  the  place  of  love 
Exiled,  and  my  consoling  hope  put  off. 

Whose  are  these  footsteps  that  climb  stum- 
bling up, — 

These  innocent  voices,  as  none  evil  use? 
This  brightness  I  will  hide,  and  know  their  words. 
(  The  Angel  disappears.     The  two  children 
enter,  carrying  a  basket) 

FIRST  CHILD 
Can  you  see,' brother?     Is  this  the  place? 

SECOND  CHILD 

I  think  so : 
The  furthest  hill,  he  said,  in  the  last  field, 

It  must  be  near;  perhaps  the  fire  burns  low 
6 


82  NOEL:    A   MYSTERY 

They  have  to  warm  them.    See,  the  light  begins ; 
Just  before  daybreak,  Father  said  to  come ; 
The  men  are  hungry  after  the  long  night. 

FIRST  CHILD 

I  'd  rather  watch  all  night  here  with  the  stars 
Than  get  up,  still  in  the  night,  and  hungry  too, 
To  bring  their  food,  if  we  find  where  they  are. 

SECOND  CHILD 

We  must  find  where  they  are ;  if  we  are  late 
Father  will  beat  us. 

FIRST  CHILD 

When  we  saw  that  glow 
Above  this  place,  I  thought  it  was  a  fire 
And  Father  would  be  sitting  with  the  men, 
But  there  is  no  fire  here. 


NOEL:    A   MYSTERY  83 

SECOND  CHILD 

We  ought  to  find 
Ashes  at  least. 

FIRST  CHILD 

Why  see,  here  is  the  flock ! 
Look,  they  are  standing,  and  all  huddled  close ! 
They  must  be  frightened.    Do  you  think  they  see 
Some  wild  beast  prowling?     O,  I  am  afraid  ! 

SEJCOND  CHILD 

Don't  be  afraid  —  there  is  no  wild  beast  here ; 
Some    flying    thing,    perhaps,    has    frightened 

them  — 

They  shiver  as  they  did  a  year  ago 
When  the  big  eagle  carried  off  the  lamb. 

FIRST  CHILD 

I  thought  I  heard  the  whirr  of  moving  wings 
When  we  came  up.     An  eagle  has  flown  by. 


84  NOEL:    A   MYSTERY 

SECOND  CHILD 

0  brother,  here  is  where  the  fire  was !     See, 
The  ashes  are  quite  cold  —  they  have  not  burned 
For  hours  —  the  men  have  gone  and  left  the 

flock! 

FIRST  CHILD 

Where  have  they  gone?     They  would  not  leave 

the  flock ! 

Only  Father  would  —  O,  do  you  think 
They  have  carried  Father  away  for  quarrelling  so  ? 

SECOND  CHILD 

1  thought  of  that ;  last  night  when  he  went  out 
He  was  half  drunk  —  he  said  he  would  beat  us 

both; 
When  he  is  drunk  he  quarrels  with  the  men, 

Sometimes  he  strikes  them  too,  —  so  the  last 
time 


NOEL:    A   MYSTERY  85 

They  told  him  he  had  better  not  come  back ; 
They  could  not  trust  him  with  the  sheep  again. 

FIRST  CHILD 
What  will  they  do  to  him  ? 

SECOND  CHILD 

I  do  not  know. 

FIRST  CHILD 

Why  does  he  quarrel  with  them?     O,  I  wish 
He  would  not  drink !    He  would  not  beat  us  then. 

SECOND  CHILD. 

Until  Mother  was  dead  he  never  drank, 
Nor  ever  struck  me  once ;  but  after  that,    I 
When  you  grew  up,  he  beat  us  both  alike. 

FIRST  CHILD 
What  was  he  like  before  Mother  was  dead  ? 


86  NOEL:    A    MYSTERY 

SECOND  CHILD 

He  used  to  talk  with  Mother  and  play  with  me 
And  hold  me  on  his  knees  and  laugh  and  smile. 
Then  after  you  were  born,  when  Mother  sat 
Holding  you  in  her  arms  and  gazing  down, 
Father  would  hold  me  too  and  watch  you  both ; 
He  would  smile  then,  but  hardly  say  one  word. 
Then  Mother  grew  quite  ill  and  thin  and  pale ; 
Her   eyes   seemed   larger  —  they  were   always 

dark, 

Her  hair  was  black,  too,  over  her  white  face ; 
Still  she  would  sit,  holding  you  in  her  arms 
And  gazing  down ;  sometimes  she  would  look  up 
And  try  to  smile  —  but  only  with  her  lips ; 
Her  large  eyes  were  too  sad.    When  she  smiled 

so, 
Father's  big  hands  that  kept  me  on  his  knees 


NOEL:   A   MYSTERY  87 

Would  grip  my  arms  suddenly  till  they  hurt. 

When  Mother  died  he  drank,  and  then  he  beat 

us. 

FIRST  CHILD 

He  will  beat  us  for  the  breakfast  that  he  missed 
If  he  comes  back. 

SECOND  CHILD 
I  hope  he  will  come  back; 
The  shepherds  would  not  hurt  him  or  hide  him 

away 
When  he  was  drunk ! 

FIRST  CHILD 

They  are  coming  now —  I  hear  them ! 
(The  shepherds  enter  in  haste) 

FIRST  SHEPHERD 

The  flock  are  here!    They  have  not  stirred  a 
step! 


88  NOEL:    A   MYSTERY 

SECOND  SHEPHERD 
No  work  of  ours  !     Strange  watch  we  kept  this 

night  — 

The  wolf  might  have  them  all  four  hours  ago  ! 
Hark,  what  is  that?     My  heart  beats  fearfully 
And  finds  a  wonder  in  the  merest  sound ; 
After  that  sudden  Voice  all  sounds  are  strange. 

FIRST  SHEPHERD 
Why,  here  are  your  boys,  neighbour,  waiting  for 

you! 
Why,  they  are  frightened  as  the  sheep ! 

THIRD  SHEPHERD 

My  boys ! 

SECOND  CHILD 

0  Father,  then  they  let  you  come  back  again ! 

1  am  so  glad  ! 


NOEL:    A  MYSTERY  89 

THIRD  SHEPHERD 

Let  me  come  back  again? 
Who  let  me? 

SECOND  CHILD 

Why  —  we  thought  —  we  thought  you  quar- 
relled 
With  the  men,  and  they  had  carried  you  away. 

FIRST  SHEPHERD 
Neighbour,  that  boy  of  yours  knows  your  deserts ! 

If  all  things  were  not  overturned  this  night 
You  might  have  had  them.     When  that  song 

began 

Of  peace  on  earth,  it  came  at  a  strange  time, 
With  you  too  ugly  almost  to  be  borne. 
When   the   light   broke   it   made   that   face   of 

yours 


90  NOEL:    A   MYSTERY 

Look  ten  times   blacker.     Those   bright  mes- 
sengers 
Were  brave  to  sing  to  you ! 

THIRD  SHEPHERD 

Say  what  you  will. 

Open  the  basket,  Child,  and  let  us  eat; 
Come  sit  here  on  my  knee. 

FIRST  CHILD 

You  will  not  beat  us, 
Father  ?    We  came  in  time  —  you  were  not  here. 

THIRD  SHEPHERD 
Child  —  Child  !     You  need  not  be  afraid. 

Come,  on  my  knee  !     Your  brother  is  too  big  — 
I  used  to  hold  him  so. 

SECOND  SHEPHERD 

Neighbour,  your  boy  — 
The  young  one  —  has  the  very  eyes  and  hair,  — 


NOEL:    A   MYSTERY  91 

I  see  it  as  you  hold  him,  —  of  the  Child, 
Such  large  eyes,  such  dark  hair  ! 

SECOND  CHILD 

What  child,  Father? 

THIRD  SHEPHERD 
A  child  I  saw  this  night. 

FIRST  CHILD 

O  tell  me,  Father, — 
I  like  stories. 

THIRD  SHEPHERD 
Stories  !     Nay,  a  dream 

The  cunning  heart  of  Joseph  might  have  framed, 
Or  only  that  wise  Daniel  could  unfold, 
Not  I.     I  heard  the  song  and  saw  the  Child, 
And  then  — I  felt  the  sting  that  David  found 
In  Nathan's  story  of  the  slaughtered  lamb  — 


92  NOEL:    A   MYSTERY 

"  Thou  art  the  man."     Yet  no  one  spoke  to  me, 
Only  the  messengers  that  sang  of  peace. 

FIRST  SHEPHERD 

Some  of  that  sting  I  felt,  but  not  at  first; 
At  first  when  the  strange  Voices  suddenly 
Turned  your  bold  quarrelling,  neighbour,  into 

fear, 

Yet  bade  us  all  fear  not  but  find  the  Child, 
I  thought,  the  City  of  David  is  not  far  — 
The  great  folk  that  are  come  up  from  all  lands 
Have  filled  the  inn  —  some  princely  child  is  there ; 
So  we  shall  see  the  city  at  its  best, 
Even  at  this  hour.     I  thought  not  of  the  flock. 
But  when  I  saw  that  Child  in  the  poor  straw, 
And  there  we  knelt,  all  three,  nothing  to  say  — 
I  would  not  cross  a  field,  I  thought,  for  this, 


NOEL:    A   MYSTERY  93 

And  all  the  while  a  wolf  may  get  the  sheep. 
I  felt  the  sting  then,  so  I  hurried  back. 

SECOND  SHEPHERD 

I  felt  no  sting ;  I  would  cross  all  the  world 
To  see  the  Child  again. 

THIRD  SHEPHERD 

And  so  would  I ! 

FIRST  CHILD 
What  child  was  it  you  saw  in  the  poor  straw? 

SECOND  SHEPHERD 

A  child  strange  messengers  sent  us  to  find. 
Out  of  the  midnight  sky  a  great  dawn  broke, 
And  a  voice  singing  flooded  us  with  song. 
In  David's  City  was  He  born,  it  sang, 
A  Saviour,  Christ  the  Lord.     Then  while  I  sat 
Shivering  with  the  thrill  of  that  great  cry, 


94  NOEL:    A   MYSTERY 

A  mighty  choir  a  thousandfold  more  sweet 
Suddenly  sang,  Glory  to  God,  and  Peace  — 
Peace  on  the  earth;  my  heart,  almost  unnerved 
By  that  swift  loveliness,  would  hardly  beat. 
Speechless  we  waited  till  the  accustomed  night 
Gave  us  no  promise  more  of  sweet  surprise  ; 
Then  scrambling  to  our  feet,  without  a  word 
We  started  through  the  fields  to  find  the  Child. 

FIRST  CHILD 
It  must  have  been  a  King ! 

SECOND  SHEPHERD 

No  King  at  all  — 
That  was  most  strange.     The  Child  was  very 

poor, 

Born  in  a  stable ;  on  a  bed  of  straw 
The  Mother  sat  and  held  him  in  her  arms; 


NOEL:    A   MYSTERY  95 

An  ox  near  by  kept  blinking  at  the  torch 

We  had  to  see  them  by ;  a  stupid  sheep 

On  the  other  side  held  its  head  down  and  gazed. 

SECOND  CHILD 
What  was  the  Mother  like? 

SECOND  SHEPHERD 

She  was  very  pale 
And  thin;   her  eyes  were  large  and  dark  and 

sad, 

Her  hair  was  black  too,  over  her  white  face. 
She  never  spoke ;  she  only  sat  there  holding 
The  Child  tight  in  her  arms  and  gazing  down ; 
Once  she  looked  up  and  smiled. 

FIRST  CHILD 

O  Father,  don't ! 
Don't  grip  my  arms  so  hard  —  you  hurt ! 


96  NOEL:    A   MYSTERY 

SECOND  CHILD 

Father, 
I  know  why  you  came  back ! 

THIRD  SHEPHERD 

What  do  you  know? 
It  is  mystery,  child.     Come  —  let  us  go  home. 


THE   UNIVERSITY   PRESS,    CAMBRIDGE,    U.S.A. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


50m-l,'69(J5643s8)2373 — 3A,1 


TORFD  AT  NRL 


PS3509.R5A65 


3  2106  00210  4278 


